Valentine's Day Surprise
by SessysGirl219
Summary: A husband ponders how he met his wife and how he will surprise her on their first Valentine's Day spent together.


I held her hips in my hands, driving my cock into her wet pussy as hard and as fast as I could. She had her hands wrapped around the slats of our headboard and had a snarl on her face. She begged me to fuck her harder. She told me how she wanted it…she wanted me to fuck her, to possess her, to own her…

**BLEEP, BLEEP, BLEEP…**

Damn. It was all a dream. I should have known. I woke up with a fog surrounding my thoughts. A fog of lust, a fog of disorientation. Where am I? It is so hard to recall the exact city and state I am in when I wake up. The room I am in certainly doesn't give me a clue. It is a standard hotel room, nothing in it that would be memorable. One of hundreds. Maybe thousands. I have been doing this job for over fifteen years. While I do love it, there are certain things left to be desired.

Every boy fantasizes about flying jets when they grow up. Trust me, the job is not as exciting as one would imagine. I still get a rush when I take off, landing is great too. The rest of the flight is boring as hell. The same announcements. The same greetings of clients. The same bad coffee and worse food. The same banal conversation between me and the co-pilot.

I must say, my enjoyment with my job dropped significantly when I met her. Being away from home so much was really hard during our courtship, and seems to have gotten more difficult as time has gone by. When you find the love of your life, one who is the other half of you in every way, would you really want to spend the better part of the year without them? Would you really want to go two weeks, sometimes three, without being able to see them, hold them, smell that scent that is uniquely theirs?

It would be two more days until I could go home. Two more days until I could hold her in my arms, look into her eyes, smell the lovely scent that was uniquely hers.

Our meeting was just as uncommon as our relationship.

I was supposed to do a quick flight down to Aruba and back to my home city of Detroit when at the last minute, the one chartering the flight cancelled. It seemed the couple that were going down there to get married had abruptly cancelled their plans. They still got charged the fee for the flight because it was such late notice and our time had been blocked out to accommodate them. The young woman who had cancelled felt so bad she requested my cell phone number to apologize personally. Usually the company would not give out such a thing, but I was told she was such a nice girl, and so beautiful, that my friend who helped run the company thought that I would appreciate a call from someone like that. He always did consider himself quite the matchmaker.

I was just getting through a messy divorce and hadn't even been on a date for a long time. I guess my friend thought it had been too long.

So she called me. She told me how sorry she was, and there was an edge of despair in her voice that spoke to me. We talked for over an hour, about everything and nothing. She had called off the wedding at the last minute because she suspected her fiancé of cheating on her. It wasn't until a month later that her suspicions were confirmed. He was sleeping around, not just with one chick, but four. Their final parting was even messier than my divorce. They were living together in a very expensive part of the city, which was ironically the same one I lived in.

After that first call, we talked to each other nearly every day. I asked her if we could meet for coffee, but she said it was too soon, and that since my divorce wasn't final and she was still straightening things out in her own personal life, it wasn't the right time.

It is funny, when I think back on it all. I think I began to love her, right with that first call. She was so smart, so caring, and had such a lovely, sexy voice. We spoke of everything, our childhoods, our hopes, our dreams. I would have never thought it could happen, but we fell in love, right over the phone, never meeting. Never even knowing exactly what each other looked like, except the slightly vague description I got from my friend (short, slim with amazing tits and an ass you would just love to spank, long dark hair, pale skin, and large blue eyes) and the description I gave to her (tall, silver hair, golden eyes, and pale skin). We knew each other's names. But that was it.

We talked to each other for a year. The day of our actual meeting was not planned out, it was purely by accident, and after that day, I knew she was meant to be mine.

I was in a grocery store, picking up the few things I kept in the house, since I would be staying for a week this time. I was in the coffee aisle when I backed up and bumped into someone. I turned around to see who it was, and saw…

I knew it was her. I was staring, and was completely unabashed in my wonder. She was staring too, her lovely bow-shaped lips slightly opened. We looked at each other for what seemed like hours. The apology that was on the tip of my tongue never came out. The only thing that did was a whisper, "Kagome?"

She was a little shocked. "It's you!"

I nodded. We just stared. And then laughed, and before I knew it, she was in my arms, and we were kissing like we had been our entire lives. The laughter was there, leaving us kissing and laughing and staring into each other's eyes. I saw her, and I knew, deep down, that it was her, the time was right for us to meet. Finally.

We spent that entire week together. We went to the park, we went to the museum, we went to dinner, we spent hours together at my house, learning each other's bodies, learning the likes and dislikes, learning how to transfer the love we felt for each other from something only spoken of to something real and tangible and physical. She was all I could have ever wanted, and she was there. In the flesh.

What wonderful flesh it was. She was indeed slim and curvy. She was a foot shorter than I, but her petite body seemed made to be cradled into mine, she fit me so perfectly that it amazed me. She had long, black hair that was so dark it had blue highlights. She had the most amazing blue eyes, which were so big and lustrous I felt like I could drown in their depths. She had legs that seemed to defy the laws of the universe, as they seemed to go on forever, even with her small frame.

Six months later, we were married. The next three years flew by in a flash.

Now, I was anxious to return to my wife, anxious to return home.

The cell phone's ring broke my serious contemplation of my wife and all her delicious curves and the secrets her flesh revealed only to me. Just one more reason to hate them. The call was actually surprising. I was going home. Today. Now I could surprise my little minx. I would be home, home for Valentine's Day for the first time since we met.

Everyone wanted to go on little romantic getaways for Valentine's Day, and since I had the wonderful job of flying people all over the world for these little impromptu trips, I was never home with _my_ wife. She took all of me, my job, my messy life, with good humor, but I knew, sometimes, she would like to see me on holidays, especially this one…

Now, I would be home. I could barely contain my excitement, and felt like a randy teenager. True, fated love will do strange things even to the most grounded of us.

I found out that I was in Philadelphia, so it would not take long at all to return home. After a few hours of flying which seemed to take days, I was finally on the ground and on my way home. The drive seemed to take longer than the actual flight, which I knew was absolute bullshit, but time was surprisingly elastic. Ask anyone who waited for water to boil, a special occasion to arrive, or important test results to be delivered. Time can crawl to a standstill. Time can also go the wrong way, speed up so that something is over before it seems to have even begun. Ask someone who is on a vacation they waited their life for, or their wedding night, or their life if led with their perfect match. Time can fly with wings faster than any jet, or can slow to the speed slower than any snail.

I finally arrived home, and pulled into the garage. It was five in the afternoon, and I could see lights on in the house. Perfect. She was home. I made sure to stop on the way for some flowers, even though I had made sure there was a big bouquet sent to her, since I thought I would not be there. I got all of her favorites, and the strong scent coming from the flowers nearly overwhelmed me in my small car. I went to the front door and rang the bell. Usually we both went through the side door. Maybe I could surprise her.

I waited a few minutes, and finally, the door opened. There she was, my angel, looking a little sad, and undeniably adorable in her little black outfit she had worn to work. She was a powerful executive, but never let that position keep her from wearing feminine clothing that flattered her figure in a tasteful way.

When she finally looked at me, actually looked and saw that I was not a delivery person, her mouth dropped open and shock was all over her face. I set the flowers down as her hands came up to cover her heart. She whispered my name, "Sesshoumaru?" but that was all that got past her lips before I claimed them with my own. The flowers were tossed to the side as she wrapped her body around my own, not caring if the neighbors saw, not caring about anything. All that mattered is that we were together.

I carried her into the house, making sure to lock the front door and drag the flowers in by my foot, never letting her go, never putting her down, never taking my lips from her. They roamed over everything they could reach. My hand was tangled in her long, black tresses, and other arm was holding her as close to me as was possible with clothes on. She meant the world to me. She _was_ everything. All I could ever need, all I could or would ever desire was here, before me.

She looked up at me, her blue eyes shining, and said, "How?" How did I get home on such a busy day? How did she not hear me park in the garage? I didn't care exactly what question she was asking. I carried her to our bedroom, and made sure that all her questions were gone from her lips. I didn't want to hear anything but sighs of pleasure, moans of my name, and shouts of incoherence that escaped her mouth as she was given pleasure as much as it was taken from her.

Our first Valentine's Day together was a special day. It came in our fourth year of marriage. Some things are just worth waiting for.


End file.
